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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135589">till the end of the world</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_leaves/pseuds/fallen_leaves'>fallen_leaves</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boyfriends, Doom scenarios, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hinata please go to SLEEP, Late night thoughts, M/M, POV Hinata Shouyou, What-If, featuring a Volleyball, light angst but not really</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:13:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,142</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29135589</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_leaves/pseuds/fallen_leaves</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>it's 3 in the morning and Hinata Shouyo <i>can't fall asleep</i> so he thinks of dramatic doom scenarios as one usually does...<br/>(while Kageyama hogs the covers and snores in the background)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>49</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>till the end of the world</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/17838401">It Is I Who Will Surely Expire</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tepre/pseuds/Tepre">Tepre</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this fic is inspired by the super amazing Drarry fic by Tepre! </p><p>A big big Thank You ❤️ to Tepre for inspiration and to the amazing Saturn for the super quick proof reading! you rock!</p><p>This is my first fic in the haikyuu!! fandom and of course it is KageHina because they are just so *squeals*</p><p>I hope you enjoy!! x</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Okay so- what if you died in the night and the last thing you'd touched was that old worn out volleyball in our room. Not the empty milk carton you threw in the trash. Not the kitchen towel you used to wipe your hands before you chucked it onto my head and said </span>
  <em>
    <span>"Oi, I won. I finished cleaning up before you"</span>
  </em>
  <span> in that smug tone of yours. Not my t-shirt that you tugged on, to pull me closer and planted a kiss on my cheek as I promised to come to bed soon. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Not the doorknob of our bedroom. Not the picture frame on the wall that is always a little aslant. Not the windchimes that you flicked. Not even the curtains or the sheets. The volleyball. What if it was the volleyball. What if you were bored and I took a little too long and your idle hands craved something to hold. Something round made with synthetic leather. It has to be the volleyball. It makes sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>I can imagine in that moment of boredom you'd take out that old and worn out volleyball from under our bed. Spin it between your hands. Play with the threads that are coming out of it's ridges. And mumble, </span>
  <em>
    <span>what's taking him so long.</span>
  </em>
  <span> Because I know, you'd miss me like that and eat slugs before you admit it out loud. But I'd still be in the kitchen, unaware of my boyfriend's feelings and his thwarted fate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And so what if that happened. And you died, just like that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>poof!</span>
  </em>
  <span> And the last thing you'd touched was that volleyball. What if the last bit of essence of your fiery soul is settled into that stupid volleyball. What would I do then? What would I be left with? Surely, at first, the sheets would still smell like you. Your pillow, your clothes. I'd even risk looking like Yoda and wear your big black hoodie. But with time, the smell would fade. Yes, your blueberry shampoo would still be on the bathroom shelf. And the third drawer of the dressing table would still be littered with your nail filers and clippers. And of course I love you, but I wouldn't be able to wedge your nail clippers in my socks before every match, what with our jerseys having no pockets.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>No no, it would have to be the volleyball. I would carry it around. Cradle it to my chest like a baby or a big watermelon. Never leave it out of my sight. I'd hug it as I'd go to sleep. I'd even take it to the loo. Place it on the flush tank, as I'd do my business, pray it wouldn't roll off. And at first, nobody would question it. Why would they? I would be grieving, completely shattered by losing my eternal rival, lover and soulmate.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But eventually, the questions would rise. Perhaps at a tournament, as I would place the volleyball right next to the Coach, and point at it every time I score a point with one of my terrific spikes. A clumsy newbie reporter would ask - </span>
  <em>
    <span>"so what's up with that dirty volleyball?"</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And I'd laugh and say,</span>
  <em>
    <span> " Ah, this volleyball? It holds the magical spirit of my late boyfriend. Did you see our blocks today though? We just went BAMM!! right?! " </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>And he'd never interview me again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>If our friends ever try to set me up again. Force me to move on and find someone new, who honestly could never compete with the high bar that you'd have set in the form of my dead volleyball boyfriend, I would like to think I'd even take the volleyball to my first date. Keep it on the park bench, wrap a possessive hand around it. My date would find it funny. Of course he would, as I'd explain the situation to him. He would even take the volleyball and bounce it in his hands. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And we'd never go on a second date.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>What if I lose the volleyball one day? What if the volleyball that is the last remnant of you is lost? What would I be left with then? Sure, we have pictures together, by our bed, above the fireplace, in frames that never quite hang straight as if they are weighed down by all the love they carry. Naturally, there still will be the flowers, pressed between pages, that you plucked in the park, where we had our first kiss, because you said they reminded you of my smile. Certainly, there will be the DVDs of all Spring InterHigh that you bought for the first time we had a sleepover and then retroactively called it a date. And of course, your blue sweatshirt that is a shade darker than your eyes that I always wear to bed because you had whispered, almost shyly, how I was yours and you were mine.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Just things aren't they? Material, mundane, transient things. Nothing permanent. No hearts etched in stone or names carved in trees that will survive the passage of time. Nothing to prove that once you kissed my freckles and called them little suns. Nothing to prove that during a particularly scary thunderstorm, you held me all night and murmured songs into my skin. Nothing to prove how you look at me sometimes as if you were waiting for me your whole life. Nothing at all to prove how </span>
  <em>
    <span>invincible</span>
  </em>
  <span> your love makes me feel– this meant-to-be, written in the stars, forever kind of love. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No. It won't do. Absolutely not. I will not let it happen. I, the absolute genius that I am, will devise a new plan. A new routine will have to be set from henceforth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So, after you throw that last milk carton, after you announce your victory, after you tug at my t-shirt and kiss me goodnight. After you nudge the picture frame, flick the windchimes, pull the curtains, get in bed – after you have touched </span>
  <em>
    <span>every</span>
  </em>
  <span> possible thing in this goddamn household–</span>
</p><p>
  <span>You will touch me. You will place your hands in my hair, my face, my neck, my arms. You will kiss my freckles, the mole behind my ear, and the pink of my lips. As I will put my hands to your chest, your hips, your back. Memorize every dip and curve of your body. I will trace every mole and every scar, draw patterns on your skin of spiralling galaxies of the universe.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And I will hold you. And you too will hold me in return. This is how I say, we must fall asleep. So if you do die in the night– which I firmly suggest you do not. I will carry you, the only way that'll survive all inevitables, the only way that'll persist till the end of the world. In the only way I know– from my very being.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I would very much appreciate kudos and comments if you liked my story ♡<br/>they make me superrrr happyyy</p><p>Thank you for reading ❤️</p></blockquote></div></div>
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